


Listen To Me

by Living_On_My_Own



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Domestic Violence, Drama & Romance, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 12:28:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24849793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Living_On_My_Own/pseuds/Living_On_My_Own
Summary: The Hot Space era had been one of the worst times of Brian’s life, but did we ever talk about the impact on Freddie’s life? He only ever wanted to be heard, to be loved.
Relationships: Freddie Mercury/Paul Prenter, Jim Hutton/Freddie Mercury
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

Freddie's POV:

"We're not gonna do fucking disco! It's not Queen!" Roger yelled.

"Queen is whatever I say it is!" I yelled back.

Roger scoffed.

"Here we go again! Freddie's ego is back!" Roger yelled again with a sarcastic smile and a roll of eyes.

I stood in front of them with arms crossed. All their looks meant one thing: unimpressed. To be honest, I was unimpressed about myself too. Fucking jerk, Freddie, making such a good image out of himself, like always.

"Well I'm the one writing the fucking hits blondie, so yeah, Queen is what I say it is." I said with a smirk on my face.

It took Brian and John to keep Roger from launching himself at me. But Brian didn't keep himself from telling me how much of an asshole I was. That wasn't really new. Especially since the beginning of this fucking album.

"Maybe I am an asshole, Brian. But I least I write good songs, right?" I laughed as I lit a cigarette.

He let out an annoyed sigh and shot me daggers with his eyes. I sent him a wide smile before putting the cigarette between my lips and letting the smoke in my mouth. I didn't take enough cigarettes today.

This was the moment Paul walked in. Roger groaned. John didn't even look at him. Brian whispered something inaudible under his breath. Paul stood behind me and kissed my neck sweetly, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"Hi." I whispered with a smile on my face.

He shut me up with a kiss on my lips.

"Okay, we don't want to see that, thank you. Go get a room." Roger said. 

I blew a kiss across the room to Roger. He sent one back to me and I smiled playfully.

"Can we work now?" Brian asked, impatience very visible.

"No actually. Because Freddie and I are leaving. We're going out." Paul interrupted anyone that would have wanted to talk.

We never really went out together, so tonight surely wouldn't be the first time it would happen. I don't know what he was planning. Maybe another one of his weird ideas. If he just wanted us to get the hell out of here. I wanted that too honestly.

"Are you serious? We've barely done anything today." John finally spoke up.

"Well you'll do more tomorrow. Am I right, Freddie?" Paul exclaimed.

"Yes." I quietly answered.

Everyone put on a fake smile and left the studio. I guess they weren't too happy.

_Listen to me. Love me._

_____

Our breathes were heavy. I was sweaty and my heart was still beating loudly. I fell on Paul, exhaustion from our previous activity taking over me. It wasn't as loving as I always wished it was, but at least Paul could enjoy it. He'd find this whole 'making love' thing silly and stupid. A lot of the things I said, did or thought were silly. Silly me.

"What are you doing?" He said and pushed me away for me to fall on my back beside him.

Oh yeah, cuddling was silly too.

"I'm sorry." I whispered. I wished he'd want to be closer to me.

"Are you gonna cry? My god, be more of a man." He sighed annoyingly.

People get annoyed at me often recently. I don't know why. 

I stood up and took clothes with me. I went to the bathroom to take my shower. I didn't need to undress so it was quicker. I got in the shower and washed myself from the feeling of his hands. It's been awhile since I felt comforting hands on my body. I can't remember when was the last time, who it was. It couldn't go all the way back to David couldn't it? Maybe it did. There weren't many sweet hands wanting me.

I wish Paul joined me in the shower. No. I'm not sure I wish he did. I wish someone sweet and loving joined me in the shower. I wish gentle hands found their way on my waist. I wish there would be someone to wash my hair, to wash my back. I wish the Paul at the studio was the Paul at the flat.

I got out of the shower, almost slipping on the water laying on the floor. I put on boxers and a too large T-shirt. Where it was from? I don't know. Definitely not from Paul. Maybe from an old one night stand. Charming.

I walked out of the bathroom. Coldness hit me, but I didn't complain. I laid on my side of the bed. Paul was laying on his side, his back facing. I fought the urge to turn him around and put his arms around my waist. He'd get angry, he'd have an other reason to make my life shit. That's another silly thing to do.

I'm not sure exactly when I fell asleep.

_Listen to me, Love me._

_____

I walked in a club. I didn't even try having Paul with me. He didn't like to go out with me. I never really learned why. I wasn't really much different with any of the other people going out. And he did go out alone.

I ordered some random drink, just asked the strongest one. Could have been anything. I didn't really care. I just really wanted to get wasted as quickly as possible. I wanted to be drunk dead, if possible. Thank you.

We fought at the studio again. And what as it about? Paul. For the umpteenth time. They didn't like him. They didn't like that he took me from the studio during our recording session, even if we weren't recording at the moment. They got angry at me. When it wasn't my fault. Not that they knew that anyway.

I didn't really like him either. I used to. He was just a way to feel less lonely. It wasn't even to feel loved. Because he never made me feel loved, he only did when we were at the studio. He always wore this mask there, he put on a smile he never put on for me. He kissed me and took me in his arms like he never did at home. He only wanted sex at home.

I never expected or intended to have someone's fist colliding with my face. Maybe it was a bit my fault, yelling at the guy for brushing against me, which was definitely done on purpose. I just really wasn't in the mood. And if Paul ever learned, he'd freak out. And I know it when I say it's not fun when he does.

I let my own fist fly to his jaw. Unfortunately, even if I once boxed, I got way more damaged than the other guy. He was ten times bigger than me. Yes, I never lost my dramatic side. His punches were ten times harder than mine. It often ended this way, me getting beat up and someone having to pull the other guy off me.

I decided it was better I went home now. I hoped Paul would be asleep, but he most certainly wasn't. He always stayed up later than me. It was like a thing of his, he had many things like that, obsessions. He wanted things to be done right and organised and he wanted them to be done to the letter. He wasn't loving when it wasn't done. Like he ever was.

I learned to live with it, with the fear of fucking something up, the fear of failing. He says he does that because he loves me. He wants the best for me. He said he loved me like no one ever did and ever will. But that really doesn't mean anything in a way.

I was jealous. Of seeing the boys so happy, having their family, their wives. The gay situation didn't really help, but I wanted only once to be with someone that wanted me and loved me. Someone that would encourage me to do better if I failed. Someone that would praise me when I won. Someone that would take me in their arms not only for special occasions, only because they loved me.

The reality always hit too hard and too fast. This time it hit painfully too. It left a new bruise on my cheekbone, it broke me to the core. This time, I didn't get a warmup. It was unexpected, only because of one stupid mistake. A pain that made me want to scream until I had no voice, only because of a slip. But nothing was ever a slip with Paul. A slip was a failure. A mistake was a death sentence.

"I'm out." He said.

I could have begged him not to. To not leave me alone again, because I really didn't know what was worse anymore. I touched my cheek with regret when I felt the pain and I saw the blood. Maybe it wasn't just this. Maybe it was because I expected myself to be better. To be good enough to not have to be hit again. Or because I was tired of people having to learn to love me when I just wanted people to love me.

I shouldn't have let my fist collide with the egg white wall. I shouldn't have let the blood spread. I shouldn't have let my knuckles swell. I shouldn't have let any tears fall. I shouldn't have let myself break down.

Usually the one that left was the one being hit, the one being told how not good enough and a disgrace they were. It was the victim that got enough and packed up their bags to start anew. I was so fucked up that Paul got tired of trying to make me decent. I was acting so badly that he couldn't handle me anymore.

I was so unlovable that even the one that didn't care about love had to walk away.

_Listen to me, love me!_

_____

Maybe the looks felt too much on me. Was it disappointment? Loathing? I couldn't have known. Maybe they didn't even care that much about it. Maybe I made a mess in my head for nothing.

"A bar fight. Can we move on, now?" I said.

They all nodded and we got to work. They thought I didn't notice it when they looked over at me all the time. I hope they know it's not always happy in my head. I just wanted to move on, to not think about the shame that the bruise on my cheek brought me. I wanted to forget about the empty house that waited for me.

Their voices sounded so far away. I didn't feel like listening, or working, or doing anything. Maybe it was because of the pounding headache that wouldn't quit. But at this exact moment, I didn't feel at my place, like there was someone else that was meant to be there.Like I was a stranger, sitting on a chair that wasn't mine, listening to music that wasn't meant for me to listen.

His words were just trying to win me over and frankly, it was working.

"So, is there gonna be my guitar solo in your new song?" Brian asked.

I looked at him, trying to find comfort in his face, but how could he give me any when he thought everything was fine? That was the consequences for trying to seem all fine and happy. I regretted the times I said I was happy, the times I said how much Paul loved me and cared about. The times I talked about all the cute things he did to make me feel loved and happy. All ugly lies, nothing more than lies.

"No Brian! I told you I don't want a guitar solo in my song! It won't fit, it won't work." I protested.

I don't know why, but it was at this exact moment that I felt like the band was falling apart. Those fights that would never stop made me doubt the toughness of our friendship. The friendship that didn't feel like one anymore. The friendship that lacked any of the love we were supposed to show. There wasn't any complicity anymore, no jokes, only work, only fights. Didn't friends go out together? Didn't friends enjoy their time together?

I was probably paranoid, but it was like this only started I started dating men. It put something between us. I sometimes caught myself thinking they weren't so okay with it. Maybe when they finally saw what it was like they felt disgusted? Maybe it was the guys I went out with, they weren't always fun. They weren't always the nicest. But they were the only one that really wanted to be with me.

I just wanted us to be all okay again. I wanted our studio sessions to be fun again. I wanted the teasing to be friendly again, not to be only insults because of the anger we wanted to let out. I wanted to go to a bar with them, talk about anything, only talk! I wanted to feel happy again when I saw them. I wanted to remember what it felt like to enter the studio and feel loved and safe for the first time of the day.

I wanted to have my best friends back, but they didn't want me back as theirs.

_Listen to me! Love me._

_____

It felt like a mistake, yet I felt like I was finally in control of something. I wasn't even in control of it anymore. It was just to see, to see if I still feel. The pain was bearable, only a little sting where the needle tore a hole in my skin. It was just a way to stop thinking, a way for my days to be a bit easier. The boy wouldn't have approved of this, but right now, they didn't care.

My fist was again wet with blood, the bandage over it soaked with the red liquid. Thankfully not broken like I expected it to be after the punch I threw to the wall. Again. Phoebe had been kind enough to clean it up and bandage it when I only wanted to hit it more. The wall was still a bit covered with dry blood.

I was angry. At myself, firstly, for not being strong enough to fight away the constant feeling of failure that kept hitting me. I was angry at the boys, for listening to me ranting about my depressed shit when I needed them to. I was angry at Paul, for not loving me like I loved him everyday, for not being there when I needed to be hugged after the hardest days. I was angry at the people working for me, for only be working for me, without caring about what really happened to me. For only doing it for the money and not because they even liked. I don't think anybody really likes me these days. I'm just an asshole from a group of many other assholes.

I was mad at the press, for making me look like a man without any emotions, a man that only ever cares about his money and his outrageous looks and parties. I was mad at the world, for being so heartless and never really searching for the real side of people, for only caring about the side of people they see from the outside. For never searching for the shattered part of people to fix them. If I was happier, I'd try and change it. If I wasn't only seen as a drug, sex and alcohol addict, I'd show them, show them who I really am.

It was stupid to hope to change the world, this world already so full of hateful and mean people. It must have been the drugs, convincing me that I could do it, that I could make everything better. Maybe it was just a way to change my mind off things, to hope and change the world to forget about my broken self. The one that people put away, rejected, when I became too much, or when I wasn't enough to fulfil all their needs.

But how am I supposed to love others when I don't even love who I am? Yet I tried so hard. I gave all my love left, even the love supposed to be reserved for myself. I used it to love other ones, so they could love me back. They didn't love me back.

_Listen to me! Love me!_

_____

The rain poured relentlessly, the only thing making sound around me. I laid on the couch, staring at the ceiling. There was a stain on it, probably someone that broke their alcohol bottle during a party.

The room was practically empty, only furnitures, no decorations, plain and boring. There were vague marks of blood on the wall. My blood. It had been painted over. Such a good metaphor. Only a fine coat of paint to cover the mistake, to cover the problem, but it was see through.

I felt numb. It wasn't as fun as everybody said it was. It wasn't about feeling nothing for a moment. It was the contrary, so many emotions at the same time, fighting against each other. None of them were stronger, so I felt them all at the same time. I felt numb.

I was cold. So so cold. The couch was freezing. The heating was opened, in the middle of July. I still felt cold. My hands became red after a while, mist escaped my mouth each time I breathed, or maybe it was my vision fooling me. My back was soaked in sweat but my whole body shook with chills. I could barely see anything, everything was blurry, everything was wrong. The spot on my arm was sore. My chest felt tight, I felt too anxious. No matter how much times I breathed in and out calmly, it didn't go away. The effect of the drug didn't wear off yet.

The syringe laid silently on the study, little amount of the product left in it. It was taunting me, telling me to continue, to take more and more and more. The effects weren't that pleasant. It was just a way to let go, it never really worked, but it was the only thing making me feel something now. Well, that and Paul's fist on my cheek. But now he was gone, so this was really the last thing.

John was supposed to come. He was supposed to come and eat dinner with me. He didn't come. He didn't call. He didn't answer my calls. Wouldn't surprise me if he told Veronica to answer if I called. Wouldn't be the first time it happened to me. But he didn't come. So I didn't. So I drugged myself. So I wanna punch another wall. But I don't want to buy any more paint. So I'm not punching any wall. Because then the boys will ask questions, and I'll have to say I got into a fight at the bar. Then, they'll say I'm acting all stupid again. This is kinda a loop, all these things happening all over again.

Yes, because John didn't come and eat with me.

I just really hoped he meant it this time. That this was real, that he would come and have a good time with me. That he would push away the loneliness. I though he cared enough about me to understand and try make it better. I was stupid, thinking that maybe because he was more on my side for the album that he would be on my side for the rest too. Well there aren't really any sides, people just decided I didn't matter to them anymore. Maybe it started when I started being a jerk. I'm not sure.

I just think my life is falling apart.

_Nobody cares enough to listen to me or love me._


	2. Chapter 2

3rd person's POV:

What the fan had said froze Freddie's whole body in sudden fear or maybe anxiety.

"I've heard there are some tensions with you and the band, Freddie. The new album is not liked by everyone? Honestly, it's not hard to see, you're usually all here after a day at the studio. Smells a lot like breakup it seems." He had said without a bother in the world.

And maybe he was right. Hot Space had made a such a mess between them. They hung out so much less than usual. The fights were repetitive, ending so often with someone storming out and not coming back for the entire time of the session.

And it would be a lie to say it didn't bring so much anxiety to the singer. There was always that voice in his head, telling him to stop, that the album wasn't worth losing everything. That it wasn't worth losing his family. The one he had fought for during so many years.

It ate him to the core when he thought about losing the thing that mattered the most to him. The thing that made him smile just thinking of them, John, Brian, Roger. He couldn't imagine losing them. And oh god, how awful he had been to Brian, making him feel excluded. It's just now that it made him feel horrible, like every other night when he sobered up from the excessive amount of alcohol he had taken.

The weight in his chest didn't help. He looked at the young man in front of him, looking way too confident. The smirk on his face never faded, making the pianist even more uneasy and unwell. What if he was right? He excused himself, feeling sweat forming on his forehead and his breaths getting less controlled. He walked to the toilet, locking himself in one of the cubicles to be able to calm down, because the music was way too loud for him to ever be relaxed.

The steady sound of a drop of water falling, from outside the cubicle, made his breathing come to normal again. He sat on the cold and probably dirty floor, thinking. He could never make that so little insecurity go away, the one that told him they would find better. That they could so easily replace him. Replace him with a good singer that wouldn't be such an asshole.

"For fuck's sake Brian! No! I don't want one of your fucking guitar solos for my song! It will ruin the whole atmosphere!"

"Is anybody putting any effort in here?! I didn't ask for you to be floppy! If we want to fucking earn money guys, we need to play well!"

"I'm not gonna change my song, Roger! It's mine! It's perfect as it is, okay?! It's not like any of you fucking care!"

He hated himself for letting himself drift apart, for walking away a step at a time. And he knew if we walked too far, there would be no coming back. It would be the last blow and there would be someone else getting to the top of the charts, escalating to being number one, replacing him. Taking his place in the band, taking his place in their little family.

And this only thought made his heart twist painfully, his stomach hurt and his whole body ache. There would be no Freddie Mercury, only the lost shy boy coming from Zanzibar that kept hiding his teeth. Nothing to be confident about, no one to be reassured by, no place where to feel at home. And he couldn't let that happen.

Freddie got up on his feet, feeling finally well enough to go back to the bar. Or maybe go back home, and finally do something that would make him happy and that would make someone else happy at the same time. He wouldn't let his life fall apart only because of a stupid change of taste or a little down.

But the door didn't open when he pushed on it. It stayed exactly at the same place, closed. The musician checked the lock, making sure he hadn't forgotten to unlock the door. But he didn't. He pushed more powerfully the closer door, without any result.

"Hello? Is there anybody here?" The Persian asked, feeling his breathing pick up a bit.

There wasn't enough room in the cubicle to feel in any way comfortable enough. The claustrophobic part of the jet black haired man came out quite quickly. It was such a small place- barely enough room to breathe properly... Barely any place to sit, to calm down.

Nobody answered. He told himself to breathe. It was fine, it wasn't that small of a space, he could move a bit, someone would open the door for him, he would realise he just didn't open it right, everything would be perfectly fine. But god, why wasn't the door opening?!

"For fuck's sake" He muttered under his breath.

Like life hadn't been hard enough these past weeks, like he needed this.

The door eventually bursted open and he could have sworn he never felt that relieved in his entire life. And as a plus, the man in front of him was more than perfectly hot. He had dark and short straight hair, a moustache like Freddie wore himself, and pretty much like any gay man in London. He was slightly bigger than him, but he seemed sweet enough.

"Thank you." Freddie finally breathed out when he managed to catch his breath. This situation was definitely panicking.

"Are you okay?" The other asked.

"Better now that you opened that door?" The singer laughed. It had been so long since he had last laughed honestly.

"Glad I could help." The bigger man answered with a smile.

And Freddie felt himself fall in love with both dimples the man wore on his slightly chubby cheeks. He swore the eyes of the stranger looked at him and immediately knew him, like they were friends for years, or even lovers.

"Can I buy you a drink? For helping me with this shitty excuse of a toilet? The pianist asked, but it was honestly more because he felt he couldn't pull his eyes away. Because the man in front of him gave him the same sensation he had felt when he met his band mates the first time, happiness.

"Of course!" He said with his clearly visible Irish accent, it made him even hotter and more perfect.

They sat at the bar, enjoying a beer, not more strong alcohol, and Freddie didn't even think one second about taking drugs.

'I really can't lose him.' Freddie thought when they kept talking and his heart grew more and more fond of the man apparently called Jim. He didn't know why, but it really suited him. It was a sweet name, for a very sweet man.

The Persian's heart felt incredibly light when he walked home, with someone beside him. There was nothing rushed, no feeling of only being liked to be fucked, only very loving and sweet words, sweet touches of hands, sweet looks.

And when they were both in his bed, it wasn't for anything meaningless that he knew he'd regret and feel even more awful about the next morning. Jim held him, like no one ever did, he laid behind him, wrapping his arms around the singer's smaller body, giving him light kissing every once in a while. Freddie didn't know when was the last he had felt so loved and happy.

"Can this not be a one time thing? I really like you." Freddie said after turning around to meet the eyes of the Irish.

"Of course. I like you too a lot, Freddie." He said before putting his warm and big hand on Freddie's face and gently putting his lips on the other man's.

And that night Freddie has the best sleep he ever had in his whole life.

Freddie's POV:

When I woke up, I half expected this to be a dream, to wake up alone, still cold, still hungover, still high, still horribly sad and lonely. But there were muscular arms around me, a light scent of smoke and cologne beside me, Jim. The same feeling as the night before.

One of his arms was wrapped around me, the other on his chest, beside my head. Our legs were slightly tangled. Both of us only wore our boxers, the night was cold, but he was my blanket, he made me all warm.

His eyes opened only slightly as I looked at him.

"Good morning." He said with a low, but happy grumble, and a heartwarming smile.

"Good morning." I whispered, with a smile too.

He brought his fingers to my hair, silently massaging my scalp. Nobody ever cared enough to only do that.

"Feels good." I quietly said, still smiling.

"Does it?" He teased me, smirking sweetly.

I hummed and put my nose in the crook of his neck. I liked it there, it was warm and he smelled incredibly good. I loved his bulky arms that were wrapped around me all night and that made me feel protected and loved like no one ever did.

"Do you actually realize how beautiful you are sometimes?" He asked.

I was glad I was hidden in his neck, because I was sure my whole face was now bright red.

"Thank you." I whispered.

My whole body felt warm when his hand reached my ass cheek, with anyone else I would have known it was only for one reason. They hands would have wandered somewhere else, ending up removing all my clothes, fucking me, then leaving me to my bed, without being seen ever again. But this time the hands were delicate, just resting there, almost comfortingly.

I had never been happier when barely two weeks later he called me his boyfriend for the first time.

_____

I could feel I was so high. I had promised to Jim. I had promised I wouldn't take anything tonight. I told him we would spend this night at the club without me taking any drugs. I didn't keep my promise.

"I'm sorry, Jim. I swear, I won't do it ag-" I tried to say.

"Fuck off, Freddie." Jim answered, still sitting on the couch, his back facing me.

_You really ruin everything._

I walked to the bathroom, not the one beside the bedroom, Jim wouldn't want to see me and that's where he'll go. I washed my teeth, avoiding my reflection because I knew I wouldn't be able to handle it.

I got out of the bathroom and decided to walk a bit in the hallways so Jim would have the time to go to sleep before I went to take my things in the bedroom. I don't want him to be even angrier with me. I know how it usually ends. And it's never fun.

The drugs only slightly wore off. I really hoped this time they would keep the shadows away, that they would make me forget. But the darkness seemed too close, following me at every turn, even when there was someone next door, someone promising me so much more than I've ever got. But I still managed to drive people away, to make everyone hate me.

I opened the door of the bedroom, Jim's back was facing me and it made my heart and my throat tighten. I really couldn't do anything right. I took some blanket from the cupboard and my pyjamas from under my pillow. I sat on the bed, looking at the part where Jim's neck joined his shoulder, where I would put my nose every night. Where I would inhale his scent every time the shadows got too close.

I hoped he would turn and wrap his arms around me, whisper to me how beautiful I was tonight, hold me close until I fell asleep. But he stayed still and I just wanted the pain to finally stop.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't do it right with you too." I said, knowing he wouldn't hear me.

I left the room before Jim could hear me cry. He didn't need that on top of everything. I went to the living room, laid on the couch and brought the pillow under my forever aching head. I really wanted my head to shut down, but it didn't. 

_Everything felt numb, I looked to the side, he was standing there, looking at us. He was fully clothed, staring at us, fully naked. I could barely move, both because of the man on me and the heavy drugs hitting me with so much force._

_"You're not hard." The boy on top of me said._

_My eyes could hardly stay open. I wish I never woke up, with someone on top of me, Paul by my side, two other boys in the corner of the bedroom. Paul probably took my money to pay them. I guess he enjoyed the thrill of watching me._

_"Continue, he just needs a bit of warming up. Don't worry, he's a whore, of course he likes all the attention."_

_A whore._

_I wanted my lips to move, to tell my boyfriend I was tired, that we could do it sometime else. I wanted to beg him, to leave me alone one night, even if I hated to be alone more than anything. But I couldn't. I couldn't remember what drugs he gave me, maybe he put them in my drink again, like the other night I woke up to him fucking me._

_I'm just a whore. I'm a whore to him, to everyone._

"Freddie? Fred!"

The images faded away, the voices were replaced by the silence of the room I thought was empty. But Jim was there, looking at me, calling my name. I probably woke him up, He was probably even more angry.

"I'm sorry. You know- I know I just keep messing up. Y-you can hit me if you want to. " I whispered.

He sat in front of me, he brought his left hand to my hair, I expected harsh fingers, tearing my hair, making my headache even worse. He put his left hand on my cheek, lightly stroking it, I expected the touch of his hand to sting, to be mean. I thought there would be hurtful words, giving me away directly to the darkness. Letting it envelope me completely, indefinitely.

"I'll never hit you, Freddie. And you didn't ruin anything, we just had a fight and I was mad but it's okay. I don't blame you, okay? You should have told me it was a bad night. I would have understood." He explained.

He brought me closer than ever, our chest colliding. The tears started falling again and I wished for this to stop. I just wanted to be happy, why didn't anybody let me be happy?

_Look how weak you are. You're such a baby._

"I'm sorry, Jim. I-I'm s-so s-sorry."

"Don't worry, it's fine. I promise it's okay. It's okay." He assured, kissing my head repeatedly.

_____

I've never felt the warmth he gave me before. I never had hands caressing me like I was the most beautiful thing in the world. I didn't take me long until I understood, until I knew. And now I was sure it couldn't be anything else than that.

I was in love.

"Jim?" I called, still staring at the ceiling with my head on his knees.

"Yes?" He answered, looking up from the book he was reading.

I sat up on his knees and looked at him in his eyes. His dimples showed up when he smiled and I kissed them one after another. I just ended up kissing every part of his face.

"What has gotten into you?" He laughed.

"I love you."

He kept smiling.

"I know." He answered with a small smirk.

"I said, I love you." I continued.

_Say it back, please say it back. Please, please, please, please, please, plea-_

"And I said, I know." He told me.

My heart fell and I couldn't help but keep look at him. Look at his eyes that usually looked at me like I was something precious. Look at his lips that were so many times on mine, softly replacing the shadows with light. I looked at his neck, where I stayed every night, wondering if I really deserved him.

What am I still doing wrong?

_Nobody will ever love you, Freddie._

My eyes stung and I couldn't stop them. I really thought that once, someone wanted me. But no, nobody ever did. I was far too clingy, far too needy, far too annoying, far too much everything.

He took my face in his hands and looked down, not able to look at him anymore. I really thought I finally was worth being loved.

"Fred, I was joking. I love you too. So so much, okay? I was only teasing, I shouldn't have done that." He said quietly before colliding our lips together and giving me the most heartfelt kiss he ever gave me. 

"I really really really love you." I said, finally letting a smile reach my face.

He pulled me to his chest and kissed my head before starting to read again, but this time with me in his arms. I really couldn't be any happier than I was with him.

_____

"Jim? Jiiiiiim!" I called from the bathroom.

I heard his loud foot steps quickly approaching and the door finally opened. He looked at me and seemed like he had run a marathon.

"Jim!" I exclaimed happily.

"Are you okay?" He asked, out of breath.

I laughed at his scared face and he kneeled in front of the full of bubble and water bathtub I was in.

"I just missed you so much." I whispered to him when he leaned in to kiss me on my wet cheek.

"I thought you were hurt!" Jim answered, looking slightly less concerned than before.

I put my my hand covered in bubbles on his badly shaved cheek and he smiled brightly. His happiness was infectious and a smile reached my face too, without even caring to hide my teeth. I still didn't like them, but Jim kept saying he loved them so I didn't bother the effort.

"I love you." He said, kissing my hand.

"Come in with me." I pleaded, showing off my cutest face possible.

It never took much convincing with Jim. He got up, removing his now slightly damp clothes. I gave him a bit of space behind me and he hoped in and put me between his legs.

"Are you comfortable?" He asked.

"Very." I replied, putting my head on his shoulder and sighing loudly.

Jim took bubbles in his hand and put them on top of my head.

"You're really my cuddle bug." He told me quietly as he brought me closer to his chest.

"I am. I love you, Jim."

"I love you too." He said, I turned my head for him to kiss my soapy lips and he did.

_____

"Can I talk to you, Brian? Alone?" I asked, while Roger and John worked on some song.

It was still quite tense in the studio. I really couldn't handle it anymore.

"Hum, sure?" He answered, visibly confused.

I pulled him out of the room, I took him to some practise room and sat him on a stool, taking his hands in mine. I missed being so close to him, I missed his hugs, the feeling of his hands in mine, I just missed being his best friend.

"So, hum, well firstly, I'm sorry. Very very sorry. I've been so so selfish. I was an idiot. And I shouldn't have been." I said quietly because of how nervous I was.

"It's okay." He answered, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"It's really not. I don't know why I did that, okay? I wasn't happy, and I took it all on all of you, especially you. And it's okay if you don't forgive me, if you still hate me, or anything. But I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry. And I know it won't make it better, but I wanted to show you some song I've been working on recently. It'll need a guitar solo. And hum, it's about you. But I promise it isn't like Back Chat." I said, ending with a slight laugh.

I took a piece of paper from my pocket. I unfolded it and gave it to him. I silently hoped for him to like it.

_God bless my soul here he comes now_

_The man with the most how does he do it?_

_Sure he's got style he's so heavy_

_He's a trip can do anything_

_Anything anything_

_He's my soul brother_

_He's my best friend he's my champion_

_And he will rock you rock you rock you_

_'Cause he's the saviour of the universe_

_He can make you keep yourself alive_

_Make yourself alive_

_Ooh brother cause he's somebody somebody_

_He can love_

_He's my soul brother_

_Whan you're under pressure feeling under pressure_

_Yeah pressure yeah pressure_

_He won't let you down_

_Whan you're under pressure_

_Oh feeling under pressure yeah pressure_

_So he won't let you down_

_He won't he won't he won't let you down_

_He can do anything anything anything_

_He's my soul brother_

_Yea ah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah_

_Ooh soul brother anything (soul brother)_

_Anything (soul brother) anything (soul brother)_

_He's my soul brother brother brother brother brother_

_Anything (soul brother) anything (soul brother)_

_He's my soul brother_

_Soul brother he can do anything_

_He can do anything_

_'Cause he's my soul brothers_

He looked up at me with a smile. He folded it back and stood up.

"Gosh Fred, come here." He said, opening his arms.

I gladly accepted and hugged him as close as possible. His fingers found themselves in my short and slightly curly hair, I really didn't want this to end.

"I'm so sorry, Bri." I whispered and my voice slightly cracked.

"It's okay, I swear." He said back.

"I missed you." I declared.

"I missed you too, Freddie. We all missed you."

We pulled away and he sat again on the stool, still smiling. He took another stool and put it in front of him, indicating me to sit.

"Where's Paul?" He asked when I was finally sat.

I tried to act indifferent, but he probably noticed it when I looked away quickly.

"Gone?" I answered with a small and fake laugh.

His eyes widened and he asked me why, still surprised.

"He left me. Around three months ago, maybe? Didn't you notice before that he didn't come to the studio anymore?" I said.

"Well, yes we did, we didn't really want to ask. We thought maybe he just didn't want to come anymore."

"Yeah, no. But I'm happy he's now gone." I said and immediately regretted it.

I really didn't want to talk about what happened, but I knew I would have to eventually. I really didn't have any choice anymore.

"Weren't you happy with him?"

Happy. I wasn't for so long before Jim. I can't remember when it last happened. Probably when the boys and I were still living together. Or when I didn't have any boyfriend yet.

I opened my mouth, tried letting out any word. No sound would come out. I closed my eyes and hoped for this moment to end, or just to pass quickly, I really didn't want to think about any of it anymore. I had enough times thinking about those moments again.

"No. I- hum, he- D-do you remember that time when I went to the studio and I said I got into a fight at the bar?" I asked.

He nodded, a frown taking over his face.

"W-well I did get into a fight. But it- it wasn't that bad until I went h-home. " I explained.

He looked confused for a few seconds until he finally realized.

"Oh, Fred... I- Why didn't you say anything?" He asked, his voice almost desperate.

"I didn't think you'd care. I- It was a bit of my fault, I didn't want to bother you with that." I whispered, eyes tightly shut.

"No. That's not true, Freddie. It's not your fault. And you didn't deserve that at all, okay? Nobody does, and even less you... Do you know why he left?" He said.

"Well apparently you're not the only one who got tired of me." I laughed slightly, but Brian didn't find it funny.

His frown deepened.

"Is that what you really think happened? That we got tired of you?" He asked seriously.

Maybe it was because he hit with his finger exactly where it hurt, but I really couldn't hold the tears anymore. I felt ridiculous, I was a grown up man, crying again.

I felt his fingers on my back, his curly hair tickling me in the neck, his chest against mine. I felt bad, wetting all of his shirt, he was probably a bit annoyed, but he didn't say anything.

"We'll never get tired of you, okay? We love you so so much, and we just thought you wanted to get a bit away, so we left you alone. We should have realised it wasn't the case." Brian explained.

His hug made me feel better. I wished for everything to stay like that forever, for all the fights to end, to just be happily make music with best friends without all the complications. I pulled away after a few minutes and he looked at me with a slight smirk.

"What?" I asked with a laugh.

"So, who's that hot guy that kissed you today, huh?" He said with a wide smile.

I felt my cheeks heating up and a smile formed on my face too. Just the thought of Jim made me so happy.

"His name's Jim." I only said, knowing Brian would ask more.

"And who's Jim?" He continued asking like I predicted him to.

"Well... He's a very hot guy. And he is mine." I answered with a quiet giggle.

Brian's smile widened, even though I thought it was already super wide.

"He's treating you right?"

I nodded, remembering how close he held me while he slept, how he washed my hair in the shower, how he woke me up with a breakfast he had made even though it was someone's job already.

"I'm very happy for you, Freddie." He said truthfully.

"I think he's the one."


End file.
